


Lost in Paradise

by Marcus_Crassus



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: But they all think its weird, F/M, First Time, They're all thirsty for each other, innocent teenagers, shipwrecked
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-01 07:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18331070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marcus_Crassus/pseuds/Marcus_Crassus
Summary: Age of Sail AU, basically Blue Lagoon with Starklings.Jon, Arya and Sansa get shipwrecked on a deserted island in the south Pacific, and spend years learning to survive and thrive.  Only as they all get into puberty and start dealing with all the hormones and emotions that comes with that....I enjoy playing with the idea that all 3 have a bit of a thing for each other (the primary pairings are Jon/Arya and Jon/Sansa, but there will be some Arya/Sansa), but all 3 struggle with knowing its supposed to be wrong, but they don't have any other outlet for what they're going through.Definitely going to be on the more sweet and romantic side, but hopefully with some delicious smut in there once we get going.  Probably some angst as well, because reasons.Also, I do this to try to get better at writing, so any comments on what I'm doing well, and what I'm doing poorly would be appreciated (constructive, please).  Please and thank you.





	1. Jon I

     It had been years now. He was pretty sure it was years now. At least two, possibly three. The tropics were a hard place to track seasons, and the few months of making marks on the tree ended when the tree was blown over in a storm. But years, certainly. Years since they washed up on this island somewhere in the Pacific. He could still hear Ser Rodrik's last words as he died from the wound in his stomach, those whispered words "Take care of Sansa and Arya. You're the man now, you have to protect them, Jon. Promise me!"

  
    They had laid him to rest under stones, burying him in his damaged armor, keeping only his sword. All those lessons Jon had on keeping it sharp, he tried to keep up on, but without proper oils or polishing stones, it wasn't what it was. Still, it was the only weapon they had aside from rocks.

  
    Between the fruit found on the island, the fish they had gotten increasingly good at catching, there was no danger of starvation. There was a freshwater stream that ran down from the interior of the island. They had all but given up hope of rescue, but overall it wasn't a bad life. From the treeline, he could see Arya, slim as the fire-hardened spear she had in her hand as she fished. The sun had tanned their skin, making them look very odd for northerners. But it wasn't the near paradise conditions that worried Jon. It was something far more... complicated. They had huddled together for warmth on cold nights since they arrived, and it never seemed odd. But the closeness of his sisters (his *sisters* he reminded himself) awoke feelings that he didn't like or want to deal with. No matter how many times he snuck off away from their little shelter to palm himself, he lived in fear of one of them finding out that he routinely woke up painfully hard. He tried to sleep apart, but the girls always looked forlorn and unhappy when he did. It was intolerable. He was a bastard boy, a product of base lust. This must be why such thoughts entered his head....

  
   And to sure, the last few months, Arya had been more of a trial in this regard, despite being younger. She came out of the surf, a pair of fish on her spear, and a smile on her face. Jon and Sansa had insisted that she wear clothes, but as per usual, she was only wearing one of the makeshift skirts Sansa had made, which showed off a great deal of tanned leg. And she was as bare-chested as the Tahitans Jon had heard the crew gossiping about before the storm. Jon kept his eyes on hers, not wanting to really acknowledge that Arya was demonstratively not a little girl anymore. Gleaming skin, perfectly browned by the sun, and.... Jon squeezed his eyes shut, shaking slightly. If she knew what he was thinking, she'd be repulsed. Think him evil, or perverse, and she and Sansa would banish him, and who would protect them then?

  
    "Dinner, Jon!" Arya sang out, clearly quite pleased with herself. Jon gathered himself off of where he was sitting, smiling back. "Your kill, so I'll clean them, of course." Keeping the conversation on the topic of food helped distract him as they walked back to their shelter and Sansa, linking her arm around Jon's impulsively... making Jon all too aware of how she pressed her skin on his skin.

  
Sansa had kept the fire going as she attempted to salvage one of her makeshift shirts. All she had to work with was leftover sailcloth and the mending supplies that were in the boat, which was less and less useful. Sansa herself occupied shameful thoughts as well... growing into a tall girl, her scarlet hair even longer now, spilling down her back. She at least kept herself decent, with a handmade skirt and top. How much of that was desire to stay decent, and how much of that was to protect herself from the sun, only she knew. But her sunkissed, freckled shoulders, and those long legs.... 

     Jon was stuck. Stuck between a slim brunette rock, and a tall redheaded hard place.


	2. Arya I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arya has some classic younger sibling inferiority going on, but I'm imagining that she's growing into being more of a Lyanna figure, and not quite aware of how she really looks. (And comparing herself to her sister's more classic beauty.)
> 
> Basically, average teenage girl/young woman angst.

Arya was rather proud of herself. Fishing with a spear was hard work, and she was used to having to work a lot longer for a single catch, but today was a good day. Two in less than an hour. And there was that other thing. She was so used to being the younger sister to Sansa, who got to do everything first. She was tall and pretty, and of course she started to become a woman first. Jon pretended not to notice, but Arya couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy when she caught him looking. And no matter how much he didn't mention it, and neither Arya nor Sansa affected to notice, they all knew Jon often woke up with his manhood... active. It always seemed to be in response to Sansa.

But Arya couldn't help but smile at Jon as she came out of the surf and caught his eyes on her half-nakedness. He had noticed! The very idea that he had taken notice of her as a woman and not a little girl sent a flush through her... a flush that made her a little nervous. It was one thing to finally get noticed, but an entirely different thing to feel... that. Jon was her brother. Or half brother. Whatever. He might be only human and notice, but he'd never actually want her that way, of course. He had always been the proper protector these last few years since Ser Rodrik died. And it would be a sin to think of such things, no matter how much Arya's gaze liked to find Jon when he was swimming or changing or hunting... those long lean lines of his back tensing up as he threw his spear... no. Arya wasn't going to think about that. Jon would never want to do something as wrong and sinful with his sister... and if Sansa found out what Arya was thinking, she'd be furious.

So she just linked arms with him as they brought their catch back, enjoying the happiness of having everything they could need on this island. They hadn't sighted a single sail since they had wrecked, and had long given up hope of rescue.

"Sansa, I got two today!" Arya bubbled out with enthusiasm as she handed the catch to Jon for cleaning. A stab of jealousy ran through Arya as she noticed Jon noticing Sansa... again. She pushed those feelings back down someplace else, thinking to herself that it didn't matter, Jon would never... She shook her head, trying to physically eject those thoughts... without much success.

"My favorite sister, always taking good care of us." Sansa smiled, holding up the handmade sailcloth shirt. "Come with me, I want to see if I can make this fit you, its too small for Jon now" Arya frowned a little, but followed her out of the lean-to as Jon settled down to clean the catch.

Sansa held up the garment, which was little more than two halves cut in a rough tunic-shape held together with handmade twine up the sides. "If its too small, I can let it out a little more" Normally Arya would have resisted having to wear clothes at all, but something in Sansa's tone...

It didn't fit well. Cut to Jon's shape, it was loose across the shoulders, and tight on the lower part. Sansa tried to make adjustments, but the sailcloth tore along the twine. It was simply too old and too used to take much more. Arya twisted in annoyance as Sansa fussed about her until it ripped, and Arya turned to say something about how she didn't even like it... but stopped as she caught her sister's eyes. They were welling up with tears, and Arya's angry comment died on her lips.

"Sansa.. what is it?" Arya asked, gently hugging her taller sister as Sansa burst into tears. They hugged there as Sansa sobbed for a few minutes... Arya didn't feel like she knew what to do, but she squeezed her sister in her arms and made her feel like she wasn't alone, which seemed to be the only thing to do until Sansa could explain.

"Its just... you and Jon hunt to keep us fed, but I can't even keep clothes on our backs. Can you imagine how angry Mother would be with me to see that I've let my little sister run around like some savage, half naked? I'm... I'm supposed to take care of you, but it feels like you and Jon don't even need me.." She sniffled as the two sisters regarded each other, before Arya couldn't help but giggle, before half pouncing on Sansa, hugging her tightly. 

"Oh, Sansa. You... you have no idea. You're the reason we're probably still civilized at all. You've taken care of all of us so well, making sure we all work together, showing me how to cook and mend things. And don't give me that crap about us keeping you fed. You're the one who found the fruit trees inland, and you carry just as much as us when we pick them. You're always so hard on yourself, but honestly... I know you're trying, but half the reason those tunics fall apart is that Jon and I spend so much time in the ocean water. Its not your fault!" 

Sansa makes what sounds like half a sob and half a laugh as they hug, and Arya is treated to a wan smile as they separate. "Thank you, Arya. Just... thank you. Just... don't tell Jon. He worries even more than I do" They gave each other a conspiratorial grin, and walked the short distance back to the shelter. The now clean fish was laid out neatly on leaves by the fire, but Jon wasn't in the shelter. The two girls exchanged a quizzical glance. "Maybe he went to go wash his hands at the stream?" Sansa said, an odd note in her voice that Arya couldn't quite place. Both sisters made their way down to where the mountain stream ran, and surely enough, they spotted Jon. But he wasn't washing his hands. Or wasn't anymore. A soft gasp came out of Arya's mouth as she realized what was going on and she froze, Sansa almost knocking her down as she ran into her younger sister. "Shhh..." Arya hissed softly, thankfully softly enough that they didn't get noticed by their brother. 

Jon was palming his manhood, his eyes closed as he stood almost in profile to his peeping sisters, his head tilted back slightly as he stroke himself. "Is he... Arya! He's..." Sansa managed to keep her voice down as she trailed off as both sisters watched, wanting to run away so they wouldn't be embarrassed, but some part of them was curious as well. It was only once they heard their brother groan as he completed, his body tensing up and relaxing that the spell was broken, both sisters exchanging a wordless look as they retreated back up towards the shelter...


	3. Sansa I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa POV

Sansa I  


Sleeping all together was starting to become... odd. They used to just pile together on their bed of leaves, snuggling together for warmth on the cool nights. Sometimes Sansa would be in the middle, other times one of her siblings. But over time, it ended up with Jon in the middle, with his two sisters on either side. Sometimes they would arrange like spoons, curling together, but recently, Jon had been insisting on sleeping on his back. Sansa had an idea why, even if she was far too mortified to ever say it. On more than a couple times, she had woken up to Jon wrapped around her from behind, his arms around her protectively. That was always very nice. But what was...confusing, for lack of a better word was when she would wake up to the feeling of him.... poking her. It felt like a stick at first had gotten in their bed, until she shifted, and realized what it was. She was so completely thankful that Jon was mercifully asleep when she noticed. It wasn't unpleasant, after all. And the last thing she'd ever want to do is make Jon feel uncomfortable. Despite being her father's natural son, he was always dutiful and serious about keeping them safe, just like all those romantic knights in the stories. And she always felt safe and protected in his arms.  


And if his manhood pressed against her at night made her occasionally think things no lady should, well... she could ignore that. It was bad enough that she blubbered in front of her younger sister. She had to be strong and ladylike, just like she had been instructed. She certainly shouldn't be finding her way down to the stream the day after Arya and her had watched Jon pleasure himself. She certainly shouldn't have made sure that Jon and Arya were off away from the area. And she certainly shouldn't have leaned up against the tree by the water, hiked up her tattered skirt, and touched her maddeningly tingling sex. It wasn't ladylike, but yet here she was, gently exploring herself, the wispy curls started to get a little wet as she gently rubbed, trying not to think about things she shouldn't... like how Jon's back muscles looked when he was hunting or working... or how those same muscles tensed up and relaxed as he pleasured himself the other day. How that was only a few feet away. Wondering what he thought about when he did that, if there was some girl back home he was sweet on. And other things that Sansa would deny thinking about as soon as she was done.... how his manhood would feel in her hand if she stroke it for him... or... if he laid with her. It was wicked, and evil for her to think of that, but her fingers felt so *good* as they teased her sex that she couldn't help it.  


She discovered quickly that while touching her lips felt wonderful, brushing around her little button was something else entirely... that spot again. And again. Her breath coming shorter and shorter as she was half lost to the feeling, and half wondering what was happening as she gasped out, feeling herself tremble and gasp, the slipperiness of her sex making those involuntary muscle movements even more delicious as her sex squeezed in a way she'd never experienced before.  


She let her skirt fall back down, a small smile on her face as she enjoyed the afterglow, before her guilt crashed down on her. God. She had touched herself in a way she was sure was unclean, and she had been thinking about her own half brother the entire time. No no no... it was wrong. If Jon or Arya ever found out... She wiped her hands on her skirt, hurrying away from the stream, feeling like she needed to go do something to take her mind off of how incurably wicked she was. They hadn't prayed much since they buried Ser Rodrik, the old retainer deserved a Christian burial, or at least as close to one as they could manage. But she knew from her schooling that these lusts were wrong and from the devil. And she hadn't resisted at all!  


Good works. She needed to do good works if she couldn't confess properly. Cleaning out their shelter, making sure they had fresh bedding and a good supply of dry wood for the fire. Anything to keep her mind off of *that*. Anything to distract her from the thought that she really would like to feel Jon pressing into her again... and the hope that he'd do more than that, even if she'd never admit it.  


Because Sansa was a good girl, and a lady, after all. Ladies don't have such thoughts, and there fore Sansa didn't have those thoughts. It was just madness, temporary madness.  


Right?


	4. Arya II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First real smut, I'm hoping it isn't crap.

Arya II  
  
It had been a few weeks since Arya and Sansa had watched Jon, and Arya's mind couldn't help but going back to it. It was her wild nature, her mother always despaired of making her a lady with her skinned knees and always damaging her dresses. Sansa saw the same thing, and she wasn't obsessing over it, after all. Arya didn't often want to emulate her older sister, but she felt she should, but it was so hard.. Arya giggled a little, half asleep as she curled up on Jon in their shelter, the moonlight casting in on them. She could see Sansa curled on Jon's other side, looking to be asleep, her mouth open slightly...

  
Arya shifted a little bit, her hand sliding down Jon's bare chest, enjoying his warmth when she looked down further and realized that Jon... Jon was hard. Absurdly so, pressing out of his loose, ragged breeches, the tip of his manhood poking out of the cord he used to cinch them. She listened to his regular breathing... he was asleep, she was sure of it. Dreaming perhaps. Dreaming of what, she wondered. What was he thinking about as he palmed it, as he spilled his seed. Wasn't that a sin too, to spill his seed onto the ground? A bad sin, if Arya remembered correctly. She tried to close her eyes and make herself sleep, but it was there in the back of her head. What would it feel like... would it be rough like his hands, or different?

That knot was holding it back. Undoing it wouldn't hurt anything...it might even be more comfortable. She could just... tug a moment and his pants would be looser, and maybe he'd sleep better. She wouldn't touch it, that would be wrong, but she should try to make her brother more comfortable, right?

It was that simple... a little tug on the hide drawstring, and his pants loosed up, his... cock springing out a little more... a bead of moisture gathering at the tip. The vulgar word exited Arya. Her brother's *cock*, half exposed to to her gaze, illuminated in the moonlight. It was then she realized that Sansa wasn't breathing as regularly anymore. A glance across Jon had her fully-awake eyes meeting Arya's. Nothing was said, but Sansa had the strangest look in her eyes. Like part of her was in awe of what she was doing, and part of her was furious. Her mouth scrunched up in a disapproving moue, clearly conveying her disapproval. 

Arya couldn't help but feel a stab of rebellion. This was none of Sansa's business, she shouldn't even be awake. And she couldn't tell her what to do, she wouldn't even dare to say anything for fear of waking Jon. She gave her older sister a mutinous look, sliding her hand down Jon's stomach, brushing a fingertip over the tip of his exposed cock, the bead of moisture catching on her fingertip. Jon made a very odd noise, a soft groan. Not a noise of pain... but quite the opposite. Sansa was shaking her head, her eyes a lot wider than they normally would be, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

  
Arya stuck her tongue out at her sister, enjoying defying her somewhat bossy sister. She brushed down Jon's length, enjoying the pleasurable noises he made in his sleep as she touched him... remembering how he looked on his own, she curled her small hand around him... he felt massive in her hand as she started to gently stroke him, listening to his breathing as she felt him almost throb in her palm. Somewhere during this whole exercise, Arya had gotten *soaking* wet, her sex feeling like it was throbbing in time with Jon's pulse. Sansa's look wasn't as angry as it was, it was rapt as she watched her sister slowly jerk off her brother in his sleep, her mouth open slightly... 

Jon's breathing got a little heavier as she stroked, his cock feeling even harder in her palm... she wanted to make him finish, like in the woods, but wasn't sure how to do... her hand was getting slick as more and more moisture came from the end of his shaft, making barely audible noises as she moved. She suddenly felt him jerk in her palm, feeling a pulse travelling up his shaft as Arya and Sansa saw him spend, his seed jetting up over his stomach and up to his ribcage... three strong pulses and a few dribbles as Arya kept stroking before it was over, Jon's breathing returning to normal... maybe even slower and more restful. 

Arya gave her sister a little smirk as she curled up on Jon, both of them staring at each other across his chest. Whatever Sansa might think, she would never be the first one to do *that*, and with little stretch of triumph that was anything but girlish, she closed her eyes and snuggled into her brother's chest.


	5. Jon II

Jon II

Jon had left that morning telling his sisters that he was going to go see if he could find some game on the interior of the island. There were small pigs that he could trap or spear, none of them seemed large enough to be a major threat, provided he was careful.

  
And it gave him plenty of time to try to come to terms with what had happened. Arya and Sansa obviously thought he was asleep the whole time, but sometime after Arya put her hand on him, he had woken up slowly, slitting his eyes and watching his younger sister's small hand working his cock. Not as practiced a touch as his own shameful stroking, but somehow even more thrilling. He pretended not to know why there was a residue on his chest when he woke up, either. God knows he didn't normally spill that much when he was doing it himself. What that meant exactly, Jon wasn't even comfortable thinking about.

  
But some physical exertion helped keep his mind off of topics he wasn't read for, and focusing on hunting certainly helped. One small pig later, and a long walk back to their camp gave him plenty of time to think. He shouldn't let that sort of thing happen again. It was bad enough he was a lustful creature, but he shouldn't lead his innocent sisters down that path. Palming himself in the woods was something he'd just have to do more often, so he wouldn't embarrass anybody.

  
With that resolved, he hiked up to the camp with the partially dressed pig over his shoulder, smiling as he saw Sansa working. "Sansa, I got one today! Do we have enough wood to smoke all of this?"   
She pushed her long red hair out of her eyes and tucked behind her ear, favoring Jon with a warm smile. "I think so. We do need some saltwater if we're going to have any in a few days. I think Arya is down at the water." She handed Jon their one and only large basin, which held enough water that it usually took two of them to carry without spilling. Jon's eyes somehow couldn't stop noticing that Sansa's tunic was a little looser than normal, exposing a little more of her pale skin... she was always so careful since she didn't tan quite as well as her siblings...

  
A short walk down to the water later, and Jon emerged from the trees to meet another sight straight out of his dreams... or nightmares. Arya had been swimming, and was emerging from the surf. Naked. Ragged, wet hair framing her face and over her shoulders... her darkly tanned skin gleaming from the sea and sunlight. Jon tried to not let his eyes wander, but the swellings of Arya's breasts and hips drew his eyes and made his mouth go dry as she shook her hair out, coming out of the surf and up the hill. She seemed unaware of Jon at first, until she got halfway up the beach, starting slightly as he moved suddenly out of the trees, basin in hand. They shared a long moment, neither of them saying anything. Arya, in a move that quite resembled her sister's, tucked her hair behind her ear as they eyed each other. Jon drank in her lithe, slender body, his guilt nothing next to the emotions he was contending with. Arya broke the spell they were under, smiling knowingly at Jon as she turned to retrieve her clothes, bending over at the waist to take them out of the shady spot she had left them in, pulling over a rough tunic and her short skirt. "You got one today, did you?" she chirped, a mysterious smile on her face as she gestured to the basin. "Lets get some seawater, and we can eat well for a few weeks"

  
Jon's mouth was too dry to respond, and his mind thinking too many beastly things to dare to speak anyhow. He simply followed his sister down the beach, hoping to find solace in labors. Anything to distract him from his shame. Not only was he some lustful animal who thought *that* about his sister, but she was clearly aware of it.

  
He wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.


	6. Sansa II

Sansa had finished up setting the leftover meat to dry after the salt bath, feeling accomplished despite feeling quite grubby. But it was good knowing that they would be able to have some pork and whatnot for a while. Work was good. Work kept her from thinking too hard about certain things. About Jon. And Arya. And Jon and Arya. And the triumphant look that Arya gave her the other night after she had pleasured Jon in his sleep... like she had stolen something from Sansa. Which was insane. Jon didn't belong to either of them. He was their brother. Half brother. Whatever. In any case, she should have stopped Arya. It was wrong, wicked for her to do such things. Decent, moral people didn't do such things, and they certainly didn't replay it over and over in their head while sneaking a hand under their skirt when they were alone. 

But she did feel grubby, so she started making her way down to the stream to wash up. She pulled her loose tunic off, sliding the rough skirt down her long legs, taking them into her hands, the small pool in the water serving its purpose as she slid into the cool water, washing all the salt and pig matter off her skin. A quick duck underwater got her hair wet... she didn't like to get it wet all the time, as it took forever to dry, and she felt like it made her look like a drowned rat. She shook her clothes under the water, getting them cleaner, if not clean, before setting them out on the rocks to dry while she soaked. A rustling in the vegetation upstream caught her attention as she stood up in the pool, her hair draping over her shoulders as she scanned around.... they had never seen any dangerous wildlife on their island.

A brief bit of movement caught her eye... a dark haired, shirtless person. Jon. Hiding behind a tree, no doubt embarrassed he wandered in on her. She sank down into the pool, hiding her nakedness... but resolving to make Jon feel less awkward. "Jon, I know its you. Don't worry, I'm still in the pool. At least come out so I know its you for sure and I don't have any reason to be frightened."

A long pause resulted, before Jon came out from behind the tree. "I'm sorry, Sansa. I didn't know you were down here, and I didn't mean to...." He blushed, his eyes averted, despite her being up to her neck in the pool. His hands were clasped in front of him, which struck Sansa as odd.... until she realized with a blush of her own that he was covering himself, a memory flash of the other night running through her minds eye, recalling that she knew exactly what he looked like when he was.... fully a man. A bit of womanly pride made her flush, queerly happy that he got that way just by seeing her in the distance. It wasn't the most romantic thing she'd dreamed of, but it was oddly endearing, particularly from Jon... who Sansa trusted would never do anything to hurt or embarrass her.

"Don't be worried, we used to bathe in this pool together in years past. You can join me if you like." The innocent-sounding works just flowed out her mouth, a little curve of her mouth being the only indication that she didn't mean them entirely innocently, her legs squeezing together by instinct as she sat in the pool. "Come on, you have to need a bath as badly as I do." She crooked her finger, feeling deliciously wicked as she beckoned, giving the poor man no respite as he made his way down to the pool, looking everywhere but at her, and almost stumbling on a rock on his way. She repressed the urge to giggle, but it was a odd feeling of womanly power that she could make this always too-serious boy, that always seemed to know what to do this nervous.

He stood at the edge of the pool, hands still clasped, looking at the pool, flicking his gaze to the sky, to her face, looking like he was about to plunge into lava. She beckoned to him again, feeling like some kind of water nymph from those Greek stories. "Don't be shy, just get in!"

He looked at her, swallowing visibly, before turning, pulling off his trousers... hiding his obvious manhood, but presenting her with a view that wasn't bad at all... she didn't know she'd find his backside so appealing... she caught herself running her tongue over her lips briefly as he slid into the water, the cold shocking him slightly, their legs brushing each others momentarily, the brief contact sending an electric feeling up her legs and spine. "See, there is plenty of room for you in here. You take protecting us so seriously, you should let us help you, Jon. There is no shame in it." Sansa felt like there was a huge unsaid part of what she was saying, but it felt right. Jon was most definitely a man... and she was most definitely a woman. Didn't the Bible itself tell that men and women belong together, for the comfort of both? It had been so long since her lessons, but she was sure of that. And there was nobody else on the island but the three of them... Sansa didn't want to take Jon from Arya... but she didn't want to be left out either. And the way Jon looked at her... it made her stomach flip. 

"I... I just don't want to do anything to hurt you, Sansa. Or... dishonor you. I know the stories about bastards, and I know I was created in sin. No reason for you or Arya to worry about my failings." He stammered out, clearly wracked with guilt. Sansa felt her eyes tear up in sympathy. The poor man. She had never thought about how he must be thinking. It was only natural for men to want women, and when the only women were the ones you'd sworn to protect....

Sansa slid over in the pool, their arms just barely touching, their bare legs bumping up against each other. "We're supposed to take care of each other, Jon. There is no shame in it." Her hand crept up to brush his hipbone under water, there eyes locked on each others... the air thick with tension, neither one making any sudden moves for fear of breaking whatever spell was being woven. She inhaled slightly as she felt his hand brush her side, sliding down to her hip, the rough fingertips seeking, exploring as hers did the same.

Their eyes were locked on each others as his widened as she curled her hand around him, feeling the warm thickness of his manhood in her palm... it was almost like she could feel his heartbeat in her hand as his mouth went slightly open in a wordless sigh... his fingertips slowing for just a moment, before finding the curls of hair around her opening, moving down and exploring, drawing her matching sigh as he explored her. She felt clumsy, distracted as she simply gripped his shaft as his fingers played about, drawing further responses from her, testing what made her inhale the sharpest, finding her little button and gently touching it. She had found out long ago tht it was the best way to satisfy herself, but the feeling of Jon touching her was like comparing a match to a bonfire. She felt her eyes go wide, her mouth hanging open as a whine worked its way out of her throat, the hand not gripping him going to his wrist, not sure if she wanted to pull his hand away, or make sure he could *never* pull his hand away.

Their faces were inches apart, sharing each other, feeling like he inhaled every time she softly gasped, feeling like her whole body was about to swell up and break, his fingers never losing a beat, working her little nub with unflagging enthusiasm until the wave broke, releasing the waves rolling up from her core, falling into his arms, a tension she hadn't been aware of breaking over her, feeling his skin against her as he gently touched, her his free hand going around her bare back as she gasped, her climax still rippling through her, the aftershocks almost as unbearably delicious as the first wave. She eventually found the strength to lift her head away from his shoulder, meeting Jon's gaze, exchanging adoring looks as they pressed against each other, wordlessly savoring the moment.  
The moment was broken suddenly, by a female gasp not belonging to Sansa, and a little more indignant that what she had previously let out.

  
It was their sister Arya, staring at them her mouth open in shock, her feelings warring on her face openly... her mouth closed into a bloodless line of fury, but the hurt in her eyes made Sansa's heart break. But it wasn't her that broke the silence... it was Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta throw in some angst. I have the next chapter almost done, but I'm going to delay posting it for a day or two (and I still have to finish it).
> 
> Enjoy!


	7. Arya III

She was in shock. She knew that Sansa had the same kind of.... urges. Arya never thought she'd see Sansa admit them, much less... this. The look she had given her the other night after what she had done with Jon. But she never expected this. And she never expected to feel this way. A cold pit of dread in her stomach, seeing Jon with Sansa wrapped around him like *that*. Hearing those noises, soft as they were. It was like a dagger to her chest.

  
And then Jon broke the silence. "Arya... please. Come here. Please. We... we all need to talk." 

She was still furiously sad, and didn't pick up on the catch in his voice at first. "No... no. You and... no." She took a step back, wanting to flee, before the look in Jon's eyes made her stop. The sadness.   
"No, its not me and her. Or me and you. Its us. Its always been us. Please.... come down here... with us." He pleaded, Sansa looking up at her, nodding slightly in agreement. Somehow that convinced her to at least see what he was going to say, making her way down, half-angrily shucking her skirt, going from bare-breasted to nude as she slipped into the pool, keeping a slight distance from Jon and Sansa. They exchanged a look, before he disengaged from Sansa slightly, moving over to her. "Arya... its not a matter of choosing. I couldn't. The idea of not having either of you around hurts me more than I would ever admit before now. I love you, Arya."He turned to Sansa. "I love you, Sansa. I don't want to ever be apart from either of you." Sansa made her way over to them, facing them both so they were in triangle, tentatively taking Arya's hand, and then Jon's.

"Arya, I love you. Jon, I love you. I don't want to ever be apart from either of you." Sansa echoed Jon, smiling at both of them, her eyes looking liquid and full, like she was about to cry.

Arya looked at both of them, feeling a lump in her throat... all that hurt and anger draining away as they squeezed her hands. "I love you, Jon. I love you, Sansa. I don't ever want to be apart from either of you." She felt hot tears running down her cheeks as she made her declaration, Jon's too-solemn face breaking into a rare smile as he leaned in to kiss her full on the mouth, their eyes closing briefly as they kissed for the first time, only a slight bump of their teeth making them pull back. Jon turned to Sansa, who had her own tears of happiness on her cheeks, leaning in to get her own open mouthed kiss from Jon, separating with a smile on her face... turning to Arya, who had her own slightly smile. Sansa cupped both hands on Arya's cheeks, leaning in to kiss her sister in a most unchaste way. Jon's mouth had been sweet, a little rough, but Sansa's was soft, and delicious in its own way. They drew back, looking over at Jon whose mouth had fallen open slightly, making them giggle together, feeling like they had just enacted some feminine conspiracy against their man. Their man. And he was theirs, and they were his. And each other's. 

"Well, I think somebody owes me something." Arya piped up with a little smirk. "I took care of Jon the other night... and it looks like Jon took care of Sansa just now..." She regarded her newly declared lovers with a long look, before they pounced on her, Jon pulling her onto his lap, and Sansa's hands going to brush her face, running fingertips down the skin of her neck.

Sansa gave her a coy smile, exploring her sister's bronzed skin, so different yet similar to hers... her nipples darker, and standing out as Arya squirmed, feeling Jon's erection pressing into the cleft of her bare ass. Arya moaned out loudly as Sansa brushed her tits, playing with the little points that they had formed into, arching her back, and pressing into Jon's nude body as her sister teased her. "Sansa... god. Please..." She couldn't quite form full sentences, the entire situation had progressed so quickly that she could hardly keep up, her sister's hands sliding down her stomach to gently explore between her legs, the little wisps of hair concealing nothing as Sansa's index finger found her lips, gently running in between them, feeling the slightly different wetness from the water as she explored. Sansa's hands moved over her, pleasuring her, touching her in ways she'd never tried herself... and Jon. Jon was holding her, embracing her protectively, his arms around her, and his cock pressing against the small of her back as he was a relatively passive witness to this... but she could tell he was enjoying it, as every time his cock throbbed, it pressed against her harder for a moment. It was hard to keep track of everything it was so overwhelming. It wasn't until her sister gently slid a finger inside of her, making Arya moan out shamelessly, her head lolling back onto Jon's shoulder that she started focusing exclusively on one thing. And that was Sansa's hand, gently pleasuring her, a delighted smile on her face as she watched Arya's eyes roll back slightly as her thumb came down on her little button, making Arya's hips move almost by instinct. 

She couldn't keep track of time, it was a blur of hands, gasps and squirms before Arya gasped out in climax, her voice squeaking in a way that Jon and Sansa found incredibly endearing, before collapsing in a boneless mass like Sansa had minutes ago, a satisfied smile curling across Arya's face as the two people she loved curled on either side in their cool tropical pool.


End file.
